


Fearless On My Breath

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Communication is Sexy, Coulson needs to work on his communication skills, D/s, F/M, Just smut, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Skye calling Coulson 'sir' is basically foreplay, Sub Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just D/s flavored Skoulson porn -- three ways Skye tops Coulson. Amorphously post-2x06, established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gentle Impulsion

She doesn’t know how long she’s been kneeling under his desk moving her lips over his cock, but her knees  _are_ starting to get tired. And yet, she doesn’t want to stop. She actually really,  _really_ wants to keep going.

It’s never been a position that has felt powerful to her before, but taken altogether, this  _is_ . The way Coulson’s hands remain obediently pinned to the arms of his chair; the way he’s been reduced to a moaning, begging pile of exposed nerves; the way he grunts her name in frustration and desperation every time she backs off.

“Skye,” he pants her name and she can  _feel_ how close he is, so she pulls her mouth off of him. “God, Skye,  _please,_ ” he whines, his hips rising off the chair even as he accepts that he’s not going to be coming anytime soon.

They haven’t been doing this — seeing each other, sleeping together, sneaking around the base — for that long, but she’s growing to  _love_ the sounds Coulson makes when he’s desperate.

While he pants, trying to catch his breath, Skye kisses a soft trail across the hard flesh and then rests her head on his thigh. He clenches and releases his grip on the chair several times as he gathers himself, and she sort of has to smile at him.

“You like it when I tell you not to move your hands, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he admits as he tightens his grip on the arms of the chair.

Skye doesn’t respond, except to slide her lips all the way down his cock, and Coulson groans and writhes under her.

“Gonna come,” he warns, half-formed words that are more grunt than speech. 

Skye pulls away and smiles at his disappointed moan.

“You could move them any time you wanted, though,” she informs him, tapping on his right hand.

“But you told me not to.”

“So you just like doing what I say?”

“Yes.”

“How far does that go, then? Like, what do you want me to tell you to do?”

“Anything.”

“To go down on me? To masturbate for me? To lick my boot?”

“Yes.”

Skye frowns.

“I’m not interested in humiliating you.”

“Nothing about doing what you want me to could be humiliating.”

She grins up at him, even as she feels a stab of arousal between her legs.

“That’s a good line,  _sir_ .” She loves pulling rank when she’s got him like this, stuck to his chair with his cock out, desperate for her touch.

“Not a line.” His voice is so earnest, and she nods up at him.

“What if I want you to tell me exactly what you want?”

He closes down a bit at that, and Skye sighs.

“It’s hard,” he admits. He  _is_ trying. “It’s much easier to focus on you.”

“But I want to make you happy, too.”

“You do.”

Skye slides her hand up the length of his cock.

“Tell me what you want right now.”

“I want to come.” It’s been an hour, she doesn’t blame him.

“How?”

“Your mouth?”

“You want to come in my mouth?”

Coulson swallows and nods.

“Say it,” she orders him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to make me come in your mouth,” he tells her, though he grimaces through the admission. She understands some — less than she’d like, honestly — about why it’s so hard for him to be honest about what he wants. Part of it is that he’s afraid of himself; he’s still convinced he might hurt her somehow despite the fact that, if she told him to, he would stay pinned to this chair all night.

Part of it is just him.

“Good boy,” she praises him, half-silly, but she sees his cock harden further at her words. He groans, desperate, as she squeezes her hand firmly at the base, and Skye uses his pre-ejaculatory fluid as lubricant to begin pumping her hand over him.

“Skye,” he grunts her name, throws his head back.

“Don’t come. You have to wait for my mouth.”

Coulson nods adamantly and seems to lose himself on the chair as he bucks his hips up into her hand.

“Skye,” he calls for her again, and she likes that about him. That when he’s in the throes of passion, when he’s least able to control what comes out of his mouth, it always seems to be her name. She likes the idea that her name is there, right at the front of his brain, the first and most available word he has.

Her hand moves over him in alternating fast and slow strokes, working his cock until he’s sweating, until he’s  _begging_ .

“Skye. Skye,  _please_ .”

She loves this moment — the moment when he’s the most honest, the most able to articulate what he wants. She loves this moment when she feels him the most with her.

Skye sinks her mouth back over his cock, and Coulson comes apart.

“Skye, Skye, Skye,” he repeats her name as she works him through his orgasm, and she slips her right hand down into her jeans to circle her clit. She brings herself off easily — a small shallow orgasm — as she finishes him, keeps her mouth on him until he collapses back in the chair.

He’s just regained sensory awareness as she comes down, a surprising spark of arousal in his eyes as he takes in the sight of her.

“I could have done that for you.”

“You still can,” she answers, breezily.

Coulson laughs as she climbs up into the chair and straddles him, and he leans forward to kiss her eagerly. He doesn’t mind tasting himself after she’s gone down on him, actually seems to like it, and she’s never been with someone that would so happily slide his tongue along hers after she’s swallowed his come.

It’s surprisingly hot, every time, even though she should have probably gotten used to it by now.

As they kiss, Skye reaches down and unbuckles her belt, undoes her fly, and slides her jeans and panties as far down her hips as she can manage. Coulson, meanwhile, keeps his hands clasped obediently to the arms of the chair.

“What do you want, now?” Skye asks him.

“I want to make you come.”

He’s so adamant, so  _earnest_ , and his voice sends another stab of arousal through her body.

“Yes, go,” she manages to tell him, and his right hand is sliding down between her legs so fast, but then he pauses.

“Can you take off your shirt?”

She looks down at the t-shirt she’s still wearing and pulls it over her head, reaches behind her head to tug off her bra.

Coulson’s mouth is immediately on her breasts, his left hand pressing into her lower back, his right hand curling up between her thighs. Skye shudders as she rides his fingers, giving in easily when Coulson’s hand on her back slides up to her neck to pull her into a kiss.

She comes like that — lips against his, his fingers curled expertly inside her, half-dressed on his desk chair.

“Phil.”

“Skye,” he whispers her name back, past her lips, as she collapses against him.

“That was good,” she sighs as he slides his fingers out from between her legs.

“For me, too. Thank you.”

“Have you…” Skye pauses, tries to shore up her words. “Have you always liked following orders in the bedroom? Or is that new?”

Coulson looks down, clearly tries to avoid her gaze, and Skye cups his cheeks, forces his eyes back up to hers.

“It’s new,” he acknowledges. “I’ve always liked to be in control before.”

"What’s changed? Is it you or is it me?”

“A little of both?”

Skye raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you.” That part is easy for him to say, and she kisses him softly on the lips. When she pulls back, he freezes up a little.

“And…”

“Especially right now, I like giving up control. I like being able to let go and do what you want me to.”

Skye nods. She gets it completely. It’s only taken seeing him fight off the need to carve to understand the tension he’s been under for the past months, trying to keep control of himself. Of course, she’s also watched him carve. She’s watched him lose all control of his body, and it surprises her that he’s willing to give up control, that he isn’t more terrified.

“Just for you,” he clarifies, as though he can sense her question.

Skye kisses him again, and is surprised when his hands firmly cup her ass and tug her down against him — already half-hard again.

“Bedroom?”

He moans his approval against her mouth, and they scurry to gather their clothes for the dash down the hall to his room.

 


	2. Makes Me Lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the bondage.

“Too tight?”

She tugs the end of the strap firmly around his wrist, binding his left arm to the headboard so that both his arms are stretched wide across the top of the bed. Skye watches as he tugs on it experimentally, rotates it in a circle, and then nods.

“It’s fine.”

But she can tell from his face, and from the way the leather cuff clearly cuts into his skin, that it is _not_ fine.

“Coulson,” she says his name warningly, and he sighs.

“It’s _fine_.”

“It’s too tight. _You have to tell me_ when it’s too tight.”

He sets his jaw and meets her eyes, and Skye can barely hold back an eyeroll at his attempt to appear calm and collected.

“If you can tell, then why do I need to tell you?”

“Because _that_ ,” she pokes him in the chest, to the left of his exposed scar, “is the whole _point_ of this.”

Coulson frowns at her and swallows, but he doesn’t say anything.

She scowls at him and begins unbuckling his hands.

“Fine. Then we can’t do this. Not if you’re not going to talk to me.”

“Wait.” He stops her, his voice quiet, and his eyes turned away from hers. “A little looser. Not much. I want it tight.”

“Why?”

She watches him tighten his jaw and struggle through what he wants to say.

“It feels safe,” he finally offers, and finally turns back to look at her. He’s honest and he’s scared and it sort of breaks her heart.

There’s a part of her that wants to push, of course — she wants to ask for more — but she doesn’t.

It’s hard for him to be forthcoming in general, hard enough for him to tell her what he wants when it isn’t about revealing his darkest fears. Sometimes — not that often, but sometimes — she wishes that she understood better how much of his reticence is just him, just _Coulson_ , and how much of it follows from the aliens and the map and the carvings.

“I like the feeling that I couldn’t get out if I wanted to,” he elaborates slightly.

It sort of makes sense to her. When they’ve done things like this before, it’s relied on Coulson’s self-control, and there must be something comforting about being able to let go so completely. Especially if he feels unsure of his control.

She rewards his honesty with a slow stroke down the side of his body.

“Very good,” she praises him and circles an index finger around his nipple, watching it harden under her touch. Gently, she drags her fingernail across it, and Coulson hisses loudly at the sensation. He arches on the bed, clearly trying to bring his nipple closer to her hand, but Skye ignores it and instead adjusts the straps on his wrists. Once he’s settled, she places a pillow under his head, wanting to make sure he’ll be able to look down easily and see _everything_.

This — the actual tying him up — makes her nervous, as much as she wants it. As much as she knows he wants it, too. She’s not sure which of them actually made this request explicit, though it’s a natural progression of Coulson enjoying her dominance; of Coulson enjoying _giving up_ _control_. It’s a natural progression of her enjoying his submission; of her enjoying _being in control_.

It feels like it’s grown organically, and yet in the moment it doesn’t feel organic at all. Her hands shake slightly as she finishes with his wrists, and she tries to take control of herself.

“Talk to me,” she orders him as she moves back next to him on the bed.

She’s still dressed — in leggings and a flannel shirt, nothing sexy, though Coulson loves seeing her in flannel shirts for some reason — while Coulson is naked on the bed. His cock has been hard since she ordered him to strip, brushing up against his belly since she broke out the brand new fleece-lined leather cuffs.

“I want you to touch me,” he murmurs.

“How?”

“Your mouth. On my nipples. And my cock.”

Her whole body is already nearly pulsing with arousal, and she can feel his words between her legs. It’s their favorite game — her slow torture of his cock with her tongue, pulling him to the edge of release but not letting him come.

“You want me to reward you after you were being non-communicative, Phil? You deserve a _punishment_ , not a reward.”

She watches his cock twitch and grow impossibly harder at her words, and a good deal of her nervousness fades.

“I think I should put my mouth everywhere _except_ your nipples and your cock.”

Coulson groans again, and she can’t even tell if it’s about pleasure or disappointment. He loves it when she tortures him this way, and they both know it.

Skye leans in to place a soft kiss against his lips, and he responds adamantly, hungrily. She allows it, and spends several minutes just kissing him. Coulson, even from his position tied to the bed, is aggressive about controlling the kiss — he slides his tongue into her mouth, pushes the pace and the depth — and she lets him.

When she finally pulls back, Coulson groans and arches his neck towards her, trying to extend the kiss. Skye smiles at him and proceeds to move slowly over him, letting him feel the drag of her loose shirt across his skin. He’s never said it in words, but she knows he enjoys this part of it — being naked while she’s dressed, being exposed to her this way.

“Skye,” he whimpers her name as she slides her lips to his neck. She pauses, then, and crawls up his body until she’s straddling his chest. From there, she stretches up so that she can run her lips up and down his arms.

“You have sexy arms, sir,” she mumbles, emphasizing the honorific as she draws spiralling patterns with her tongue up his right forearm. When she bites down gently on the soft flesh of the inside of his upper arm, he groans and bucks his hips, so she continues with the bites, moving to his shoulder and then across and down his left arm.

“Skye.” Her name is muffled as he cranes his neck up and buries his face against her stomach, breathing raggedly into the flannel as she torments him.

“Do you like that, Phil?” She pulls back enough to ask the question, and he nods his reply. “Tell me.”

“Yes. It feels good.”

“Where else do you want me to bite you?”

“Everywhere,” he begs her.

She can imagine it — the way his skin must be all sensitive nerve endings, the way the slight edge of pain must drive him crazy, must make his whole body throb with anticipation.

Skye takes her time nipping along the musculature of his arms as he groans under her, until she’s at his chest. Coulson arches towards her, clearly wanting to feel her mouth at his nipples. She avoids them, though, skipping her teeth down to nibble at his stomach.

She had been surprised the first time she saw him naked. Surprised at the muscle definition under the salt and pepper hair that thins at his belly and then thickens again as it leads down to his cock. Surprised at the length and girth of his cock, which practically rests on his belly. Surprised at the way that the salt and pepper chest chest hair is so _sexy_ , the way that the other reminders of his age are sexy, too — the scars and the wrinkles around his eyes and the way his life is written on his skin.

Slowly, she closes her teeth around the muscle on the left side of his stomach, nipping at oblique and being careful to avoid touching his cock. As she switches sides, his cock twitches under her, almost begging for attention. It makes her laugh, turn her gaze up to meet Coulson’s.

“Aww, he misses me,” she teases.

Skye carefully runs a finger across his stomach under the spot where his cock has been resting, and slides it through copious pre-ejaculatory fluid.

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding adamantly and watching with awe as she licks her finger.

Skye grins at him before she moves her mouth down to his legs, where she bites down at the top of his inner thigh.

“ _Skye,”_ he grunts, gasping almost too loudly. She pulls back, worried she’s hurt him, but Coulson is just bucking against the bed and swallowing too much — he’s clearly too close to the edge of orgasm.

The thought of that — of getting Coulson off without touching him where he wants to be touched — strikes her as incredibly erotic, and her whole lower body tightens at the thought of it.

“You think I can make you come without touching your cock?”

Coulson groans at that question, swallows again.

“Probably,” he admits.

Skye grins evilly at that, and Coulson shudders under her. She likes having a game to play, she can admit it. She’s good at games, and this will be a fun one.

It makes sense to start at his feet, she decides — to build the intensity for him before coming back to his inner thighs, so she slides down the bed and takes firm grasp of his right foot before leaning in and nipping at the arch, just hard enough to not be too ticklish.

“Christ, _Skye_ ,” he grunts. He pumps his hips up off the bed and he moans, his whole body writhing for her.

She’s completely shocked at the reaction, and she leans in to bite closer to his his big toe, earning another grunt of her name.

“How did I not know you were so sensitive here?”

“I didn’t know,” he admits, breathing too harshly. As she leans back towards his toe, he flinches, almost pulls his foot away, and Skye shakes her head at him.

“Next time, I’m going to have to tie down your legs, too.”

“Yes,” he agrees, almost too eager.

“The Director of SHIELD, naked and spread-eagled on my bed. Totally at my mercy.”

“I’ve always been at your mercy,” he replies, and Skye laughs at that, rewards him by nipping her way up his calf.

He’s silent as she continues, breathing heavily and clearly trying to keep himself under control. But his control starts to slip as her mouth hits his thighs again. It takes so little, or at least it seems so little to her, to have him tense and shaking on the bed, panting her name as she works over him.

It’s a bite right at the top of his inner thigh that does it, that drives him past the point of no return. Coulson calls her name, aroused and pleading and desperate, and Skye sinks her teeth into the top of his thigh as he pulses against his stomach. Bites turn to soft kisses as he finishes coming and Skye soothes him down from the high he’s been on.

She’s still kissing him softly when he finally relaxes back onto the bed.

“Okay?”

“Skye,” he replies, just that — just her name — but quiet, content, sated.

She grins up at him as she crawls up the bed to release his hands and bring him the rest of the way down. Cleaning him up is a simple task, and then she cuddles up next to him.

“That was incredible,” he mumbles into her hair, laying kisses where he can reach as he stretches his arms and then wraps them around her. “What can I do for you?”

His hands run down her back and cup her butt through her leggings.

“First tell me what you liked,” Skye requests, though she doesn’t ask him to stop the slow kneading of his hands on her ass.

“I liked being tied down,” he admits, and she’s surprised how _easy_ it sounds for him to say it. “I like knowing you’ll take care of me.”

Skye smiles up at him and Coulson looks almost embarrassed, so she quickly slides up his body and kisses him. He kisses back enthusiastically, his hands still squeezing her butt as he responds to her.

“Let me take care of you?” He murmurs the request quietly against her lips, and Skye shivers and nods.

He’s slow and gentle and _reverent_ as he gets her off, holds her eyes as his mouth and fingers push her to orgasm, and her last thought before she comes is that she’s never felt so _close_ to someone before.

  
  


  
  



	3. Love is a doing word

Skye grunts and runs her fingernails along his scalp, searching for enough hair to grab hold of. When she finds what she needs, she drags his head up from between her legs.

Coulson, of course, whines at being removed from his task.

She holds his head up, away from her body, as she takes a few slow deep breaths, trying to recover herself. Stopping him is hard, but she wants to wait, she wants to build this up.

“Don’t let me come, yet,” she instructs him.

Coulson nods twice, adamant and showing he has taken his instruction to heart, and when she lowers his head back down, he immediately pushes his tongue up inside of her.

“Phil,” she keens, immediately too close for comfort at his enthusiasm, and he dutifully pulls back to kiss the tops of her thighs. When she’s come down enough, he pauses and looks up at her.

“Can I use my fingers?”

“Whatever you want. I want you to be in charge.”

He tenses at that, swallows and frowns.

“I’m not sure that’s safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe.”

“Skye, I’m not sure about my control —”

“Phil. I trust you. I have been watching your control for so long now, and it’s not...it’s not a concern. You do this for me all the time. This is just how I want it right now.”

He closes his eyes at that and nods.

“If I —”

“I trust you,” she says again. “And I need you to trust yourself. And I need you to fuck me with your fingers and your mouth. I need you to build it up for me before you let me come. Can you do that?”

Coulson nods, worry suddenly gone and replaced with eagerness as he pushes his face up between her legs again.

It’s instinct that has her reaching her hands back down into his hair, but Coulson stops her quickly — raises his head and grasps her hands in his in quiet, good-humored reproach.

“Sorry. I guess I can’t do that if I want you to be in charge.”

“It does send sort of the wrong message, yes.”

Coulson is smiling at her, though, and she get the impression that he’s comfortable with this because, really, she’s still in charge. He’s still doing what she’s asked for.

“Why don’t you tuck your hands behind your head?”

She likes the way it’s an easy request, not a demand, and she slides her hands under her head and relaxes.

“You can get back to work now,” she tells him, shooting for breezy and silly. He must get it because he laughs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Coulson’s tongue is, again, insistent, and Skye can’t keep her hips still as he curls it inside of her. The desire to reach down and direct him, to push him to go just a little harder and faster — to give her what she needs to push her over the edge — is ridiculously strong.

She can feel him laugh against her, and when she looks down, he’s looking back up at her.

“Relax,” he instructs her. “This is going to be good for you, I promise.”

Skye nods and gasps when his tongue slides up to circle her clit.

“ _Phil_.”

“Hmmm?”

The buzz of his _hmmm_ against her clit drives her insane, and she bucks her hips up against him. She can feel a tingling warmth building at the base of her spine, and as she’s trying to decide whether to fight off the coming orgasm or not, Coulson pulls his mouth away from her.

She groans loudly, even though this is what she’s asked of him, and Coulson laughs.

“We should do this more often,” he tells her as he dips his head enough to drop kisses along her inner thighs.

It makes her smile that he’s so comfortable with it — comfortable enough to make jokes and smile, when he’s been so scared of himself lately.

Any possibility that she’ll respond is cut off, though, when he slides his lips back over her clit and flicks his tongue in a fast rhythm that brings back the warm sensation — makes her whole body feel hot and tingly.

Coulson takes clear enjoyment in toying with her, bringing her to the edge and back more times than she can count until he finally crawls up her body. The drag of his shirt and slacks against her naked skin feels like a taboo, and she can’t help the way she writhes against him — trying to feel more of him pressed against her.

He kisses her as he pushes two fingers inside of her and begins an insistent rhythm.

“I’m going to make you come now,” he tells her, and Skye moans and nods adamantly. “But I’m not going to stop. I’m going to make you come so many times, Skye,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Yes,” she calls out as she can feel the approaching crest of orgasm, as she falls under the spell of his words and his fingers.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises.

She loses the ability to even pretend to kiss him, and instead throws her head back on the pillow. She aches to wrap her arms around his neck, to hold him to her while he makes her come, and it’s as though he can sense her desire.

“You can touch me all you want.”

So she does. She slides her right hand up behind his head and directs his lips to her neck while her left hand skids down his back and rakes up under his shirt to feel the hot skin of his lower back.

“Even when I’m in charge, you’re pretty bossy,” he whispers against her neck, though he also kisses her just the way she likes, closes his teeth gently over the spot just beneath her ear and then presses his tongue there. “It’s very hot.”

Skye laughs at that for a second before he twists his fingers just right and she finds herself trembling underneath him, clawing at his lower back as she struggles to breathe.

“Coulson,” she pants his name, “don’t stop.”

She barely even processes his reply (a quietly sarcastic, “Not gonna, remember?”) over the rush of blood to her ears as she feels her body start to pulse around his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” she begs again, on repeat, unashamed of the request as she rides the waves of her orgasm.

As it crests, as she feels herself start to come down, she expects him to slow down the thrusts of his fingers, at least, to give her a period of recovery, but he starts moving his fingers faster.

“Phil,” she grunts his name as he pushes her higher.

It’s impossible to keep track after that. He draws it out for what seems like hours, until she can’t tell whether she’s had one tremendously long orgasm or too many squished together to count the difference. As though he can tell when she’s had it, though, he slows his fingers and lets her collapse back on the bed.

And it’s only upon collapsing that she realizes how tight her body has been drawn, how her thighs and her back and her neck and her shoulders have been arched up into his touch. Now, though, it’s like every muscle in her frame relaxes at once, and she feels like she might melt through the bed.

“ _Phil_ ,” she sighs his name, a smile growing across her face.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs into her ear. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m all sweaty and gross,” she replies, self-deprecating flare in full force.

“Mmm. Sweaty, yes. Gross, no.” As if to prove his point, Coulson kisses down her neck again.

“Take off your clothes,” Skye tells him. “I want to feel you against me.”

“Still bossy,” he whispers into the hollow of her throat, but he smiles widely at her as he pulls back and does as she’s asked. His cock is hard when he presses himself up behind her, but he doesn’t push it insistently against her. Instead, he focuses on cuddling up to her, on enjoying the physical closeness between them, and Skye sort of melts with gratitude back against him.

“That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Amazing for you, too?”

“You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he tells her, as though she’s slow for not having caught on. “I could watch you come for hours.”

And despite her exhaustion, despite the bone-deep satiation, she feels the words between her legs — feels herself get wet for him again. She laughs and snuggles back against him.

“Maybe more in a little while, first tell me what you liked.”

“Watching you,” he answers, easily. “I love being the one who makes you come apart like that.”

“I know the feeling,” she answers.

“I wasn’t…” Coulson pauses, buries his face in her hair. “I felt in control of myself. I haven’t been sure of myself in such a long time.”

He trails off, and Skye slides a hand up and down his forearm where it’s wrapped around her.

“You haven’t felt in control of yourself lately?”

“Yes. And I’m not sure if I feel like myself, sometimes. I wonder…”

“What Ward said, right? About something taking over Garrett?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still you.” She’s so sure of it, so sure of Coulson.

“When I’m with you, I know that.”

“It’s like that for me, too. The fact that you trust me, even though —”

“Where you came from doesn’t matter,” he cuts her off, reminds her for the thousandth time. “It doesn’t make you.”

“I know. Sometimes though..." She doesn't say it, doesn't give voice to the fears that threaten to overtake her sometimes. Fears that she knows he shares. "You make me feel...like _me_.”

His arms tighten around her, and Coulson takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you.”

His words are quiet but firmly spoken, no room for her to question them. She turns in his arms so she can look into his eyes because it’s the first time he’s ever said those words; the first time either of them have said those words.

“I love you, too.”

And it’s funny how it’s big and important and emotional, and also nothing at all because she’s never doubted — not for a second, not even when he was cutting her out — that Coulson loves her.

“It feels like it should change something that I said that, huh?” His eyebrows are drawn together in near-confusion.

“But it’s the same as always,” she fills in.

“Yeah.”

They kiss on that — slow and deep and unhurried — and Skye cuddles into his chest, head tucked under his chin.


End file.
